This Year's Love
by SquintSquad17
Summary: For Christine Daaé, working at a hotel is anything but exciting. But when a high-profile guest checks in, things are about to change. Modern day, EC.
1. This Year's Love

**A/N: **Well, I know I'll probably regret starting another chaptered fic without finishing the first, but eh. So, this is my first try at modern day PotO, and I hope you'll enjoy it. Don't forget to review – good or bad:)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own PotO. Sorry to disappoint. ;) The title comes from the (amazing) David Gray song by the same name, which I also don't own.

---

If working at Copper Creek Hotel had one redeeming quality, it was that it was barely a minute drive from a coffee shop. Twenty-four year old Christine Daaé was currently enjoying that particular advantage, preparing to leave Coffee Populaire after ordering herself a vanilla latte.

It was early in the morning, and Christine took a sip of the much-needed caffeine as she made her way towards the door. If she were to make it through her shift at the hotel, she would need all the coffee she could get.

Christine glanced at her watch; she had ten minutes to drive to the hotel where she worked at the desk during the mornings, and as a live entertainer in one of Copper Creek's restaurants a few nights a week. Checking in and singing songs for the uppity businessmen and rich travelers who stayed at the hotel wasn't quite how Christine imagined her career would be progressing, but certain circumstances had made her set her dreams aside for now. At the very least, the job was close to home and coffee.

Pushing the door open, Christine was still lost in her thoughts. The cool morning air had just reached her face when she collided straight into something, or rather someone, just outside the doorway.

All at once, Christine found herself on the hard ground, the latte that had been in her hand lying beside her, its contents quickly spilling onto the sidewalk.

Christine groaned. Really? Of all the times this could happen, did it have to be when she very much needed the energy boost? Grabbing the empty cup, Christine stood up gingerly and looked to the person she ran into. He was older than her, tall with dark hair and – and a mask? Christine tried not to look too closely, and opened her mouth to apologize for her clumsiness when she was cut her off.

"May I assume no one has detailed to you the disadvantages of not paying attention to where you're going?" the man said coolly, leaning down to pick up the file that had fallen when he and Christine had collided.

"Oh, I –" Christine spluttered, taken aback at the sharp words. "I'm sorry, I just had a lot on my mind and didn't look before I opened the door…."

"Obviously," came the drawling reply.

Christine felt a hint of blush creep into her cheeks along with a bit of anger. "At least the coffee didn't land on you," she said, gesturing to the mess her latte had made on the ground.

The man raised an eyebrow and said, "Should I profess my undying gratitude now, or would you prefer me to wait?"

Christine scowled slightly. She had said she was sorry – did this guy need to make her feel worse? "Right. Well, I'm sorry again. Next time I'm walking out of a building, I promise to look both ways before stepping out the door."

Without waiting for another sarcastic reply, Christine sidestepped the man and marched toward her car. Glancing at her watch, she found her ten spare minutes had dwindled to five. The hotel was close enough that she would make it on time, but she'd need to hurry through the parking lot.

When she arrived at Copper Creek Hotel, coffee-less and still annoyed, she took her seat at the front desk next to Meg Giry, her friend and co-worker.

"You're late," Meg said with a smile, looking up from her computer.

Christine glanced at the clock on her screen – it was just two minutes till. "I'm not late, my shift doesn't technically start until seven."

"Well, normally you're here five minutes earlier than me, so relatively speaking, you're late. Mr. Firmin already came by to let us know that we're expecting someone important to check in today and to be extra helpful. But anyway, what held you up?" Meg spun her chair to face the part of the desk Christine sat.

"I ran into someone outside Coffee Populaire."

"An old friend or someone?" Meg asked curiously.

"No, not like that. I mean, I literally _ran _into someone, fell to the ground, and dropped my coffee," Christine explained. "And then this jerk practically took my head off."

"Well, you did run into him."

"There was no need for it – I mean it wasn't like the coffee spilled on him!" Christine said forcefully. "It just fell onto the concrete. If anyone should be mad, it should be me for falling down and for wasting a perfectly good vanilla latte."

"Maybe he was just having a bad morning and you were the person he took it out on," Meg pointed out.

"But still! What can be so bad at seven in the morning that you feel the need to be rude to someone like that?"

Meg considered her for a moment before saying in mock solemnity, "Christine, everyone's fighting a battle you know nothing about."

Christine snorted. "Shut up, Meg."

"Wow, you're cranky without caffeine – I'm just trying to be helpful." Meg smiled innocently. In truth, Christine's indignation was more than a little amusing. "So, what did this mean jerk man look like?"

"I don't really see why that matters," Christine said, "but he was ridiculously tall, had dark hair, and he wore a mask."

"A mask?" Meg repeated blankly.

"Yeah. It was white and covered half of his face," Christine said, holding her hand to her face to demonstrate.

"Right, because that's normal," Meg muttered.

"It doesn't really matter, because now I'm over it. It was just a coffee, and I just needed to vent." Christine smiled apologetically at Meg and then added, her happy tone hiding her sarcasm, "The rest of today I'll be bright and cheery and do Copper Creek Hotel proud with my positive attitude."

"That's the spirit, Chris," Meg said with a laugh. "I mean, what _can't_ be happy about getting paid very little money for answering phones and dealing with cranky guests?"

"My point exactly," Christine replied. After her words, a comfortable silence fell between them, and they each began working on their computers until the next guest would come inside.

A few minutes passed uneventfully before Meg called softly, "Hey, Christine?"

"Yeah?" Christine said, not looking up.

"Well, I know this will probably renew your righteous indignation, but I feel I should tell you anyway."

"What are you talking about, Meg?"

"Your coffee-spilling masked man just walked through the hotel's entrance," Meg said, looking as though she was struggling to keep from laughing.

Christine's head jerked towards the doors at Meg's words; sure enough, there was the same man from outside the coffee shop.


	2. Heaven Knows It's High Time

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter; Erik's last name is Destler, just because I wasn't sure what else would fit. Well, thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far – y'all rock! One thing: I really don't want this to get too clichéd, so if it's getting a little "been there, read that," let me know! And, I will try very, very hard not to be a terrible author who doesn't update – so don't worry too much, zeeksmom:)

---

"Christine!" Meg hissed as the man from the coffee shop neared them. "Christine, try not to look like someone just hit your puppy. He'll come to my side of the desk; try to look like you're busy on your computer and he won't say anything to you. I doubt he'd bring it up anyway."

Christine nodded silently and pulled up a new file on her screen. She tried to type a few things, but she couldn't help, however, watching him approach out of the corner of her eye. A hotel worker arrived just after he had walked into the hotel and took the man's luggage, but now the masked man was coming straight towards the desk. Christine made a conscious effort to stop watching his progress across the lobby and tried unsuccessfully to become concerned with the file she was supposed to be working on…

"Good morning," Meg said suddenly – the man had reached the desk. "Welcome to Copper Creek Hotel. Are you here to check in?"

The man gave one sharp nod of his head. "Yes. The room is listed under Erik Destler."

"Okay, Mr. Destler," Meg continued in the same bright tone, "you'll be staying in room 1218. The reservation says you'll be here for one month – is that still correct?"

"As I haven't made any mention of changing it, you can assume it is," he said coolly.

Meg's cheery smile faltered for one brief moment before she continued, "I just need to see some ID first, and then you should be all set. The bill can be paid when you check out."

Without a word, Mr. Destler handed Meg his driver's license, which she promptly looked at and returned.

"Thank you, and now, Christine, can you get Mr. Destler the file with the hotel information and his room keys?" Meg asked, causing Christine to start.

So far, she had been able to keep herself from turning in her chair to watch the conversation, but now Meg had found a way to bring her into the check-in process.

_Ugh, I should have known Meg would drag me into this somehow. _The file was closer to Christine, but Meg _had _said she would take care of this particular guest. "Sure," was all Christine said though, leaning to where the room keys were kept.

"Here you are, Mr. Destler," Christine announced a moment later, holding out the folder. She chanced a look at the man; he was watching her intensely, and Christine noticed his eyes had a strange yellow tint to them.

"Thank you, ah, Ms. Daaé," Mr. Destler said, reading her nametag. His mouth curved up into a hint of a smirk, and then he reached out to take the file from her. "I see you managed to make it to your job safely. No other collisions, then?"

_Going to bring that up, was he? _Christine thought. _Well, in that case…_

"No, Mr. Destler," she replied sweetly, daring to meet his eyes. "I made sure to check where I was going at _all _times. But thank you for asking – it's _so_ _nice_ of you."

Christine could have sworn the man was going to smile for a moment, but instead of doing that or saying anything else, he simply turned back to Meg and said, "I trust that will be all?"

"Yes, you're welcome to go to your room now," Meg said, a little surprised to having been brought back into the conversation. "The elevators are just down that hall. Feel free to call the front desk should you have any concerns, Mr. Destler."

"I'll be sure to do so," Mr. Destler said tonelessly, and with that he began to leave the front lobby.

Meg and Christine both watched in silence as he walked away. He had barely taken two steps from the desk, when the hotel manager appeared.

"Ah, Mr. Destler," Mr. Firmin said, "I see you've arrived as planned!"

Christine and Meg exchanged a brief glance at their boss's words. This was the high-profile guest who was expected to check in today?

"It would seem so," Mr. Destler replied smoothly.

Mr. Firmin looked a bit shocked the cool manner, but didn't let it deter him from trying to make a good impression on the man who was obviously paying quite a bit of money to stay here. "I do hope the service has been to your liking," he said, nodding towards where Meg and Christine were sitting.

"It's been _so nice_ so far," Mr. Destler said, meeting Christine's eyes as he echoed what she had used to describe his words a moment earlier.

"Good, good." Mr. Firmin paused for a second before adding, "Well, I won't keep you from your room any longer, Mr. Destler. I just wanted to welcome you to Copper Creek, and if you need anything else, please let me or our front desk know."

Mr. Destler nodded and stepped passed the manager to finish making his way toward the elevator. Mr. Firmin left the lobby shortly after, presumably to head towards his office.

With his exit, Christine and Meg were finally free to discuss what had just happened.

"So, do you believe me now?" Christine asked indignantly. "Isn't that Destler guy a jerk?"

"Yeah, I was surprised he brought up the hit from this morning." Meg smiled wickedly and added, "He's a loaded jerk, though. A month at Copper Creek? That's more money than I'll ever have. And 1218 is one of the nicest suites, too! I wonder who he is…"

"Ugh, who cares about his money, or his job? He'll be here for a month; that means we'll be seeing a lot of him." Christine sighed; she really wasn't looking forward to being verbally abused each day.

"Maybe he's just _really_ not a morning person," Meg said. "By afternoon, he could be extremely warm and pleasant."

"Yes," Christine agreed with a smile, "I'm sure at noon he'll march down to the lobby with a new vanilla latte for me."

Meg laughed. "You never know, Chris. It could happen."

"For some _strange _reason, I sincerely doubt that, Meg."

**A/N2**: Eek, sorry that chapter didn't move anything forward. Next chapter (which should be longer) will explain a little more about Christine – I just wanted to get Erik in the hotel:)


	3. Waiting On My Own, Too Long

**A/N: **I lied – this chapter actually isn't about Christine, because it's about Erik! I hope that's a good thing; his POV ended up being easier to write this part of the story from. Let me know if it seems too OOC or anything. (I also lied, because this chapter still isn't very long, but they will be soon, I hope!) It's also a bit later in the day now – about noon, if it matters to you – and I hope you enjoy it. And, of course, thank you all again for leaving such lovely reviews. They really make my day:)

---

Erik Destler hated hotels; he always had. Although, to be fair, it was more the reason behind having to stay at hotels than anything else – the impersonal rooms he could more than manage.

It was, well… For the most part, his job as a composer afforded him the ability to work from his home in seclusion, but the occasional conference about one of his pieces or a trip to a music hall to discuss a show in a neighboring city always arose. With it, came the annoyance of having to stay at places like Copper Creek Hotel. And more specifically, the annoyance of being stared at by other guests. Not to mention that with trips there was also the need to frequently walk around a strange city that liked nothing better than to gawk at a man wearing half of a mask.

For this reason, the constant staring, the constant reminder that he was nothing more than a monster, Erik hated hotels. But really, it wasn't as though he expected anything else, it had always been like this. In any case, he couldn't bring himself to blame anyone for staring; his face was horrible, he knew that. And he had long ago learned the lesson that it was much easier to simply stay inside, and with the exception of his stays at the hotel, he did exactly that. He had his own home, he had his music, and at least to Erik, that was better than having to spend time around the people who had no compassion to offer him.

Not that he wanted it, anyway, he told himself. And even if he did, hoping for something that would never come was just another way of asking for pain.

His cell phone buzzed then, pulling Erik abruptly from his thoughts. Taking it out of his pocket and checking the ID, he saw it was the man who was putting on one of his operas at a music hall five minutes from Copper Creek (the reason for his lengthy stay at the hotel). Erik didn't like the man, or wish to speak with him, but he was glad for the distraction from the thoughts that were heading in a direction that was nowhere good.

"Erik Destler," he said dully, putting the phone to his ear.

Erik listened disinterestedly as the man asked if they could meet at the music hall in fifteen minutes. After cutting in with an affirmative response, Erik ended the call. He hated when people took longer than necessary to tell him something that should be over within seconds.

Frowning slightly, Erik glanced around the room for anything he might need for the impromptu meeting. He'd only been at the hotel for a few hours now, and hadn't bothered unpacking yet. He supposed he'd have to do that later, grabbed a few stray papers from here and there, and left the room.

In the hallway, Erik found himself in the company of an elderly couple, both of whom cast he and his mask furtive glances, their expressions torn between fear and curiosity. Erik fought back the urge to pull off his mask and tell them if they wanted to be frightened, he could certainly give them an actual reason to be. He settled instead for a cold glare and made his way toward the elevator he hoped was empty.

Unfortunately, the privacy he had wanted in the elevator was nonexistent. When Erik stepped inside, he came face to face with a young girl. She looked about six, with strawberry blonde curls, and stared curiously at his white mask with wide brown eyes. Erik had been about to open his mouth to ask what she was looking at, when the girl smiled and asked what button he wanted her to push.

"Lobby," Erik replied, shocked that he hadn't frightened her.

"Me, too!" the girl said, pointing to the already lit button. "My mommy went shopping and now she's back at the hotel so my daddy said I could go meet her by the front doors as long as I went straight there." A note of pride filled the girl's voice at being allowed to go somewhere as far as the lobby by herself.

"I see," was all Erik could think to say. He wasn't quite sure why the child was talking to him, but he supposed that little kids were less predisposed to fleeing at the sight of someone wearing a mask. Erik avoided looking at the girl as the elevator continued to descend the floors, moving unbearably slow.

"My name's Hannah, what's yours?" the little girl asked suddenly.

His eyes flickered over to where she was standing, and he muttered, "Erik." _Really, how long did it take to go down twelve floors?_

Finally, a tinny ring filled the elevator and the movement mercifully came to a stop.

"Well, bye, Erik!" the little girl said, flouncing out of the elevator, eyes searching for her mother.

Erik followed Hannah into the lobby, seeing the girl meet her mother right in front of the doors, as promised. He watched as the woman glanced at him uneasily and asked Hannah why she had come downstairs by herself.

He could hear Hannah's voice explaining that Daddy said it was okay, which was followed by another anxious glance from the mother, along with a reprimand about staying too close to strangers (Erik knew she really meant _monsters_).

At this, Erik left the lobby quickly, hoping to avoid having to look at the woman's frightened face any longer. The cool, early-afternoon air greeted him as he left through the front doors, happy to be out of the confines of the hotel once more.

The walk to the parking lot was a short one, and Erik was soon far away from all the staring. He was nearly to his car when he heard footsteps falling quickly from somewhere in the parking lot. He glanced behind him, but saw no one nearby. Assuming the person had already climbed into their car, he continued walking.

It wasn't until a small body collided into his own, that he realized someone had been walking between the rows of cars, hidden from sight, and obviously not paying attention to where they were going.

As the girl ran into him, he heard a muffled exclamation of shock, and then a dryly muttered, "We have to stop meeting like this, Mr. Destler."

**A/N2**: More E/C interaction next chapter, promise! I just thought it might be nice to see why Erik's here and sort of why he hates being there. Poor Erik. :(


	4. It Feels So Right

**A/N**: Really, have I mentioned how much you guys rock? Seriously, thank you so much for the nice reviews:) If anyone's been wondering, Raoul will be appearing soon. It pains me to bring in the fop, but it can't be smooth sailing to lovely EC goodness, now can it? This chapter's a bit light on dialogue, but it's longer than usual. Hope you like it. ;)

---

As soon as her shift ended, Christine waved goodbye to Meg (who was stuck working for a few more hours), and hurried out of the hotel. It was just past one, and she was starving. Luckily, there were quite a few fast-food places near Copper Creek, and at this point, greasy, fried food sounded exactly like the thing she needed. The walk to the parking lot was quick, and Christine was almost to her car when…

_Ow. _She had just walked out of the row of cars and straight into someone whose chest was uncomfortably hard._ Not again, Christine, you klutz. And of all the people to run into…_

"We have to stop meeting like this, Mr. Destler," Christine muttered dryly, taking a step back from the tall figure in front of her. She was really beginning to wish she would learn to watch where she was going – this collision thing was become a rather annoying habit. Not to mention painful, too.

Mr. Destler raised an eyebrow at her words and copied Christine in taking a step back. "If I didn't know any better," he said, "I'd say you were running into me on purpose, Ms. Daaé. This is twice in one day, now."

Christine smiled. "I wouldn't flatter yourself – I have no control on who my clumsiness makes me to run into. Just be glad I'm not holding a coffee again."

"True. Although, it's funny," Mr. Destler began, "I do seem to remember you promising to look where you were going from now on."

_No kidding. _"You'd think I'd have learned by now not to make promises I can't keep," Christine said.

"An unfortunate habit to go with your talent of running into people."

Though his words were joking enough, Christine couldn't help but notice the tone with which he spoke was slightly sharp. Apparently, this Mr. Destler had a problem with people who didn't keep their word. _Duly noted, _Christine thought with a small smile.

She more closely at his masked face, her curiosity about this strange man piqued. With the white mask covering half of his face, it was difficult to read his expression. Christine did notice he seemed slightly uncomfortable. Not noticeably, no, but he was tense and stood ramrod straight. It was a moment before Christine finally spoke. "Sorry again for running into you. I'd say it won't happen again, but we saw how that worked out."

"Indeed," was the terse reply.

"Er, well, goodbye, Mr. Destler." Christine took a step to the right and raised a hand in a wave.

"Goodbye, Miss Daaé," he replied. And with that, he disappeared behind a row of cars.

_Strange. At least he didn't seem as angry as when I bumped into him this morning._

Shaking her head slightly, Christine turned and made her way to her own car. After pulling out of the parking lot, Christine went to the nearest fast-food place to get a quick lunch as planned. She went home and showered after, and then ran a few errands before meeting up with Meg for dinner and shopping (more window-shopping than anything).

By the time she was finally home for the night, she was surprised to find the clock hand nearing ten. Christine wondered where the day had gone, and found she was exhausted despite the fairly early hour. Yawning, she settled on the couch, not quite ready to sleep. She turned the television on and found herself watching a movie that she had seen a few times before.

She quickly bored with the familiar plot, and let her mind wander. It wasn't long before she found herself thinking about her job at Copper Creek. What was she still doing working there? Wasn't it time to get on with her life?

Christine frowned and shook her head. The past year and a half had been so hard.

It had all started right after she graduated from college, when her father had fallen ill with a particularly bad bout of pneumonia. The pneumonia had hospitalized her father briefly, and Christine had put her dreams of performing aside and moved back into her childhood home to care for him, helping around the house and making sure her father took his medication as prescribed. Despite assurances that he would be fine, Christine hadn't left once her father's health had returned. There was no other family to watch over him, and she hadn't minded staying with him.

She had been home for two months when she had taken the job at Copper Creek. Just for a few more months, she had told herself, just until the medical bills were paid off and she had enough to help her father back on his feet. Besides, she could tell he was lonely with no one else nearby. Her mother had died many years ago, and she hated the idea of her beloved father living by himself. A few three more months passed, and Christine had planned to leave after Thanksgiving to try again to begin performing. Her father insisted he was fine, and refused to allow her to leave her dreams by the wayside any longer.

Everything had changed, of course, after that night, the one Christine remembered everything about. It had been a Tuesday, and her father had gone out to dinner with an old friend in town. Christine was happy to see he was finally getting out and about. She had been at their home, watching a melodramatic made-for-TV movie with Meg, who had come over armed with a pint of ice cream after being dumped by her jerk of a boyfriend. Meg's spirits had been beginning to brighten when the telephone had begun to ring.

"_I bet that's my dad. He always calls when he's on his way home," Christine muttered, standing up off the couch. "I'll be right back."_

"_Hurry," Meg said in between bites of ice cream, "or you'll miss the tearful, sappy reunion scene. It's the best part of the movie."_

_Christine paused, halfway to the phone. "You've seen this before, Meg? Why on earth would you want to see it again then?"_

"_Horribly cheesy movies are a guilty pleasure," Meg responded with a smile. "Besides, mindless drivel keeps my mind off Craig."_

_Christine had laughed and then hurried to grab the phone before the machine picked up the call. "Hello?"_

"_Is Christine Daaé there?" It was a man's voice, one she was unfamiliar with._

"_This is she. May I ask who's calling?"_

"_Miss Daaé, this is Sergeant Whitehill from the police station-"_

_Christine's mouth went dry. "Is everything okay?" she cut in._

"_Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your father's been in a car accident. He's at St. Mary's now, and you were listed on file as the emergency contact."_

_The words had knocked all the breath out of her. "Oh, God. Is he a- alive?" Christine asked, tears forming painfully in the corners of her eyes. _

"_He's currently in critical condition, and you should make your way to the hospital as soon as you can," the man said, his voice was gentle _

"_Th-thank you," Christine murmured and then hung up the phone. Tears were falling down her face, and her hands were shaking. She had managed to grab her car keys when Meg appeared next to her._

"_Chris?" she had asked, her voice soft and concerned. "Is everything all right?"_

_Christine shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Meg had walked over to her and touched her arm softly. Christine had collapsed into her friend's arms, finally managing to choke out, "My dad."_

Meg had driven her to St. Mary's, but by the time they had gotten there, it had been nearly too late. Her father was conscious long enough for Christine to say goodbye, but the internal injuries had been too much. The flat line of the hospital monitor still haunted Christine's dreams.

In the weeks following her father's death, Christine had been a wreck. She had planned the funeral, but all emotion had been drained from her. If it hadn't been for Meg and her mother, Christine had no clue what she would have done. The pain had been so great, and Christine hadn't been able to understand why her father had been taken from her.

By the time the funeral and medical bills had been settled, Christine couldn't bear to perform again. It had been her father who had introduced to music. He had been the one who was at all of her silly childhood concerts and the one who encouraged her to pursue her dreams of singing professionally after college. The knowledge that she would never see her dad at one of her performances again was too much too bear.

And so she had stayed at Copper Creek, and she was still here, almost a year later. She had sold her childhood home – it was too big and too full of memories for one person – and moved into the apartment she was still living in. Christine knew she should move on, but she just couldn't. She couldn't leave and go perform, and she didn't want to move away from the town she had known her whole life.

Sometime, she knew, she would have to leave the hotel and find a new job somewhere. Whether she would begin performing again or not, she couldn't work at a front-desk her whole life.

A sudden shout from her television yanked Christine out of her thoughts. Glancing toward the screen, she found the movie had reached its pivotal point. Unable to bring herself to care in the slightest, Christine decided she would go to bed – thinking about her father had drained the last bit of energy she had left. She turned off the television, acutely aware of how quiet the small, lonely apartment now was, and went to her room.

Changing into her pajamas and getting ready for bed took next to no time, and Christine was soon lying down on her soft mattress. Exhausted and grateful that she didn't work until tomorrow night, Christine drifted off to sleep almost instantly.


	5. Start to Forget

**A/N**: Eek - sorry for the slow update! This chapter gave me some problems and I'm not very happy with it, but at least it's pretty long. Hopefully it won't disappoint too much. Don't forget to let me know what you like or don't like. Feedback is the best:)

**---  
**

The next morning Christine woke up feeling more exhausted than usual. It was almost nine, which was nearly three hours later than when she woke up for work, but still, she was loath to get out of bed.

Finally, after lying awake and staring at her bedroom ceiling for ten minutes, Christine managed to climb out from under the covers and head to the bathroom for a shower.

The warm water did some good in clearing her mind, and Christine was feeling relatively more awake by the time she had finished the shower. She thought about calling Raoul to see if he was free to meet for lunch, but then remembered he was at the office all day for a meeting. They had been dating for a few months now, but lately it seemed as though Christine never had the chance to spend time with him.

But at least without plans, Christine could take her time getting ready. The next thing she had to do was work that night, and it seemed like a good day for relaxing. Once dressed, Christine straightened up a few rooms and read for a while, the hours passing slowly and leisurely.

Finally, at six thirty, Christine headed out to her car to drive to Copper Creek. Unfortunately, when she tried the ignition, she found she was stuck. This was the second time in three months her car had broken down, and Christine was at the end of her patience with the piece of junk.

Cursing her car under her breath, Christine pulled out her cell phone to call Meg. She'd deal with getting her car repaired later – she couldn't be late for work.

"Hello?" Meg's cheerful voice rang in Christine's ear.

"Hey, Meg? It's Christine," she said.

"Hey! What's up?"

"My piece of crap car has broken down once more, and I need a ride to work," Christine explained, annoyance at her useless vehicle apparent. "Do you mind coming to get me?"

"I can definitely do that," Meg said. "I'm actually nearby, so I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks, Meg, you're a lifesaver."

"Don't I know it?" she said with a laugh. "See you in a minute."

"Bye." The phone clicked off, and Christine then made her way to her front porch to wait for Meg. Sure enough, her tiny sedan rolled into view just a few minutes later. With a glance at her clock, Christine found she would still make it to the hotel on time.

The ride was short, and Meg kept Christine in stitches as she relayed her latest date story, which included – among other things – a trip to the dollar theater, a night filled with talk about the weather, and paying for her own dinner (which, although okay on some occasion, definitely not so on a first date).

"Do you need a ride home, too?" Meg asked as she pulled into the parking lot. "I had work this morning, so I won't be busy, and it would be no problem for me to come back."

"No, it's fine. I think I'm going to call Raoul later and see if he can come get me. I haven't seen him in a few days, so I'm taking whatever I can get," Christine said.

"Understandable." The car rolled to a stop next to the front entrance, and Meg unlocked the door before continuing with, "Well, have fun at work. Don't attract too many creepy guests with your singing."

"Very funny, Meg," Christine said, pulling on the door handle.

Meg smirked. "I'm just saying that it's happened before. Give those guests a few glasses of wine and…"

"I'm going now," Christine cut in, smiling in spite of herself. With a last thanks to Meg, she climbed out of the car and walked into the lobby. Her shift at the restaurant started soon, so Christine made her way there, pausing only briefly to call Raoul for a ride. She had caught him on a break, and her happily agreed to pick her up once her shift was over.

After a quick goodbye, she found Firmin in the restaurant and briefly discussed what she would be singing tonight. After another few minutes of instruction, Christine took her place at the back of the restaurant where she always sang.

At seven, the restaurant was just beginning to fill up with guests eager for a taste of what Copper Creek hailed "fine dining." Christine took a step forward to the microphone, and soon after, the band began to play.

The song she was supposed to sing was like all the others at the restaurant – quiet, relaxing, and painfully boring. Though she was there for the guests' entertainment, Firmin always made sure Christine never sang too loudly or distracted any guests. She was background music more than anything else.

At her cue, she began to sing, and despite the simplicity of the song, Christine began to enjoy the mere feel of performing. This was what she loved to do.

It went on like this for another few hours, with breaks here and there to rest her voice. The night was no different from any of the others Christine had worked, and at the end of her shift, she was eager to get home. Most guests had already left, and the few stragglers at the bar were slowly trickling out.

After a goodbye to Firmin (who had returned close to the restaurant's closing to check for any complaints), Christine walked slowly towards the door that led to the lobby. The exhaustion she had felt this morning returned full force, and she hoped Raoul would remember to be on time.

As she reached the lobby, she suddenly heard someone call out for her to stop. Turning on her heel, Christine found herself face to face with a stocky man in a suit, whose eyes looked slightly glazed over.

"Can I help you?" Christine asked, tone brisk.

"I'm hoping you can," the man said. He smiled suggestively, and Christine took a small step back.

The man was probably harmless, of course, but Raoul would be here soon and she really wasn't in the mood to fend off mildly drunk hotel guests.

"I'm sorry, but I have to get home," Christine said. "And I would appreciate it if you'd head back to your room. Sir," she added belatedly.

"No need to call me 'sir,'" the man said. "The name's Buquet, and you can call me Joseph."

Christine opened her mouth to respond and tell him to leave her alone, but someone else got there first.

"I'm sure Ms. Daaé would prefer to call you nothing." Without any warning, Erik Destler had appeared at Christine's side. Why did this man seem to be everywhere she was? "Why don't you go back to your room?"

It was phrased as a question, but the tone in Mr. Destler's voice left no room for a choice. With his intimidating height and white mask, Christine wondered if anyone ever questioned whatever he said.

Buquet hesitated for a moment, but turned and left, muttering under his breath, "Fine, fine. Just trying to have a little fun."

Once Buquet was out of sight, Christine turned to the man beside her and said, "I owe you a lifetime's worth of thanks."

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Daaé."

"You might as well call me Christine, you know," she said. "After I've run into you twice, and you've saved me from Buquet, I'd say we know each other well enough."

He hesitated for a moment, and Christine thought he looked slightly uncomfortable with her request. Finally, however, he said, "You may call me Erik, then."

Silence fell between them, and Christine shifted from one foot to the other, fishing for something to say. She was about to say she needed to leave, when Erik spoke.

"I saw you singing at the restaurant," he said, his yellow eyes finding hers. "You're more talented than most singers in your sort of job are."

"Oh, er, thanks," Christine stammered. _That was nearly a compliment, _she thought, hiding a small smile. _I would have expected an insult or something more _–

"But you're no where near the level you could be at," Erik continued. "You could be great, but this was merely tolerable, mediocre."

_Something more like that. _Christine smiled wryly. "Gee, thanks."

"I could instruct you and help you improve," Erik said suddenly. "If you'd like, of course."

"You sing?" Christine asked, saying aloud the first thought that came to mind. She wasn't sure why it shocked her so much – he had a lovely speaking voice after all – she had just never imagined him singing.

The corners of Erik's mouth turned up almost imperceptibly, as though enjoying a joke Christine wasn't privy to. "You could say I'm reasonably talented, I suppose."

Christine said nothing for a moment, a million thoughts running through her mind. Was she really about to accept voice lessons from a hotel guest she barely knew? She didn't even like this man very much. Sure he had come to her rescue tonight, but he had been so rude every other time she had talked with him. _Why would he want to help me, anyway?_

Despite her misgivings, however, and perhaps against her better judgment, Christine found herself saying, "I would like that, thank you."

Erik's eyes flashed with an emotion Christine couldn't quite place – happiness, perhaps? – and he said, "Well, then I will come downstairs after you shift. I believe there is a conference room at the hotel that might be empty."

"I'm sure there'll be one," Christine said. "I'm done at one, so I'll see you a little after then. Would that be all right?"

"Perfect," was the reply.

Still a bit taken aback at the turn the conversation had taken, Christine glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that Raoul would be here any minute. "Well, I don't want to make my ride wait, so I'd better outside and she if he's there. Thank you again for saving me from Buquet."

"My pleasure, Christine."

Christine smiled. "Well, have a nice night, Erik. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Erik said nothing, simply nodding once before walking from the lobby in the direction of the elevators.

Christine turned and walked the other way, out the front doors, and waited in the cold for the lights of Raoul's car. It was a few minutes before he pulled up, and when he did, Christine climbed quickly into the passenger seat, thankful to be out of the frigid air.

"Hey," she said as she closed the door.

"Hey, yourself," Raoul replied with a smile. As they began to move out of the parking lot, he said, "How was work?"

"It was all right," Christine said. She almost began telling him about possibly meeting Erik for singing lessons, but decided at the last minute not to. It wasn't as though it was anything for him to be worried about, but Christine wondered if he would understand. Instead she added, "How was your day? You had a business meeting earlier, didn't you?"

"Unfortunately. But at least it's the last one of the week."

A comfortable silence settled between them, and Christine busied herself with finding something decent on the radio. Of all the things she liked about Raoul, his taste in music wasn't one of them.

"Hey," he said suddenly, as Christine switched the station, "I like that song."

_Whoops_, she thought, smiling. "I don't know why you do though; it's hurting my ears."

"Well, in that case, I'll just have to do this." With a wicked grin, Raoul reached out and switched the radio back to its previous station. "If you try and change it back, I'll make you walk next time you need a ride," he added, his blue eyes twinkling good-naturedly.

"Fine, you win," Christine conceded with a dramatic sigh. "We're on my street, so I suppose I can bear it for a few more houses."

"How kind of you."

The loud music filled the car once again, and soon they slowed down as Christine's house neared. Christine gathered her purse and unbuckled her seat belt as they stopped completely. "Thanks again for the ride, Raoul."

"Don't mention it," he said. "It was nice to just see you; I feel like we're always at work now. Are you busy tomorrow night?"

"No, I work in the morning, so I'm free."

"Good. Do you want to grab some dinner and go see a movie then?"

"That sounds perfect." Christine smiled, and leaned across the armrest to kiss Raoul lightly on the cheek.

"I'll call you tomorrow, then," Raoul said. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight," she replied, hopping out of the car. She waved when she reached her front door, and then quickly let herself inside. The temperature seemed to be dropping every few minutes, and now, nothing sounded better than making a mug of hot chocolate

Christine did just that, and five minutes later found herself at her kitchen table, sipping her warm drink. Her stereo was turned on, and the soft music filled the room, reminding her of the restaurant ant and the conversation she'd had with Erik earlier that evening.

Tomorrow, after she worked her morning shift, she would have her first lesson. It still seemed strange to her to be taking lessons from someone she barely knew, let alone barely liked, but Christine didn't regret saying yes. It was possible she had simply misjudged Erik. Not to mention she was hoping this would give her the confidence she had lost since her father had died, and maybe lead to a job somewhere other than Copper Creek.

In any case, the lesson couldn't come soon enough.


	6. How My Heart Gets Torn

**A/N**: Well, after many, many months, this story is finally getting an update (albeit a bit of a short one). I hope you haven't forgotten all about it, and I really hope you all enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to review and let me know what you thought. :)

--

She was late.

She was ten minutes late, and Erik was beginning to wonder whether Christine was coming at all.

Well, to be fair, he had been doubting she would show up before 1:30 had come and passed, but that was beside the point. The point was, well, it was that Erik had been a fool to expect that Christine Daaé would want to take lessons from someone like him, from a monster.

During the night, long after Christine had left, Erik had placed a note by her computer, setting an exact time and a place for the lesson. He'd reserved the smallest conference room in the hotel with a well-placed phone call to Mr. Firmin, and then arranged for a piano to be in the room during the hours they would be there. It had been an easy task, as Firmin had been more than willing to fulfill the whims of such an important guest. And once the room had been reserved, Erik had even taken care to set the time to give Christine a small rest between the end of her shift and the start of their lesson.

The start of the lesson that, apparently, Christine no longer felt like attending.

Frowning slightly, Erik glanced down at the papers grasped in his hand. There were vocal exercises and warm-ups, ones he had written specifically for her. He wouldn't admit that to her, of course – he would just let her assume he had found them from one source or another. The stack also held a few short pieces for her to practice between lessons, although Erik was again feeling like an idiot for expecting there to be more than one lesson, especially as a first wasn't happening.

He glanced at his watch. She was fifteen minutes late, and Erik was certain she wasn't coming now. He allowed himself a small sigh, and then chastised himself for being disappointed. _You should be used to this by now, damn it_, he thought bitterly. _After all, it isn't as though this is the first time someone's broken your arrangements, or the first time you've gotten your hopes up only to be disappointed._

And yet… And yet there had been something about Christine. Something to do with her blue eyes and easy smile that had made Erik think she would keep her promise to come. She was clumsy and a bit cheeky, but there was something about her that he didn't want to think about too much, because it had made him begin to hope.

_Hope_.

Well, that should have been his first clue something wasn't going to work out. What hope was there for a monster like him?

Erik stood slowly from the piano bench and gathered his the rest of his papers. He was about to turn to leave when the conference door opened behind him.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mr. Dest – Erik." A breathless Christine was hurrying into the room, pink-faced and surrounded by a halo of tangled curls. "I had to run an errand for Mr. Firmin, and it took much longer than I planned, and I didn't make it back before my shift ended." She stopped in front of the piano bench and stood beside him, blue eyes meeting his yellow ones. "I'm so sorry, Erik."

"Perhaps you should save your breath for your warm-up," Erik replied coolly. "This lesson will have to be done in a bit of a hurry; I've a meeting at 2:30."

Christine looked slightly taken aback at his response, but recovered well. She ran a hand through her hair, and then held it out for the warm-up. Managing a small grin, she said, "Okay, let me see it, then; we can get started right away."

He gave her a moment to look at the exercises he had given her, and then, sitting back down at the piano, told her to begin. She made her way through the first two with ease, but when she came to the more challenging ones, her voice began to show signs of strain. Erik smiled inwardly – he had purposely written the music to be difficult. Christine was nervous and not breathing properly, not to mention the fact that she had been out of practice too long; singing at a hotel bar was hardly the training she needed.

Halfway through the next exercise, Erik held up a hand to stop her.

"Ms. Daaé – Christine," Erik said. "I've met seven-year-olds whose voices sound better than yours at the moment." He smirked. "Relax, breathe."

Christine glared at him. "I'm sorry; I'm just out of breath from rushing here, and I had to start right away. And I'm out of practice. Believe me, I'm trying."

"Try harder, then. You said you wanted to start right away," Erik said. "Your complaints will earn no sympathy from me."

The steely look remained in her eyes, but Christine said nothing further.

"Sing this." Erik took the warm-up from her and handed her a different sheet of music. It was an aria from _Faust_, something Erik was unsure Christine could sing at the moment. However, the look of concentration on her face led him to believe she wasn't one to be underestimated.

Taking a deep breath, Christine began the song. Erik started to accompany her on the piano, wondering if he would have to stop again in a second or two. The first few notes were still shaky, but after a moment, she closed her eyes and began to sing, _really_ sing. Erik smiled imperceptibly, and fought the urge to stop playing and just watch her. She really had the most exquisite voice he had heard in years. Yes, it was rough around the edges – unchallenged – but still. The majestic quality was there; he could hear it. With practice, she would be great. Better than great, actually; she would be an angel.

When she finished, Christine looked at Erik and grinned, clearly thinking he would be impressed. In all honesty, he was, but that didn't mean he would tell her so. He'd leave the praise for when she really deserved it.

"Tolerable," Erik said simply. "At least I no longer feared my ears would fall off from prolonged duress."

Christine quirked an eyebrow. "Tolerable?" she repeated. "That was better than tolerable. I haven't sung like that since before my da – in a while."

"And if you feel that's the best you'll be able to sing, Christine, I'm disappointed," Erik said. He paused for a moment, taking in the slightly hurt look on Christine's face. She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut across her. "I'll see you two days. At the same time, if it suits you."

Erik stood and picked up the stack of papers sitting on the piano bench beside him. "Here, practice." He handed a few exercises to her. "I'll be able to tell if you don't."

He gave Christine only time to nod mutely in response, before walking out of the conference room. As the door began to swing shut behind him, Erik could have sworn Christine mutter, "Tolerable? I'll show him tolerable."


End file.
